Under the Stairs
by punchdrunkMarvel
Summary: There will always be monsters, and Dirk will always be fending them off. Short drabble for the Strider bros.


**an: short drabble written because the striders are the best brothers ever. xD not meant to be romance, but i guess if you squint. enjoy.**

You yawn as the elevator slowly descends, plunging down past even ground level into the humid basement of your apartment complex. You're not sure why you agreed to get out of bed when it was nigh dawn and help your ironic bro carry his shitty swords down here, but there you are anyway, shivering in a flimsy football T, pajamas, and bare feet. He only arrived home minutes ago and is fully dressed, reeks of smoke and dry ice. You would never voice this out loud, not even ironically, but sometimes you wish your bro didn't have to work so much. Yes, he is a DJing god and always in high demand, but he's also the only family you have, and, well, a cool dude, only slightly surpassed in coolness by yourself.

The long drop ends with a loud clank, and the slightly dented doors slide open. You follow Dirk through rows and rows of storage units, just trying to keep your eyes open and the swords from dragging on the floor. You would think that he could part with just a few of these pieces of junk, at least enough for your AJ to reclaim a rightful spot in the fridge. You wouldn't ask him for that, however - a fridge full of shitty ninja swords was your kitchen's ironic centerpiece, and trying to put food in it would just make you look like you weren't ironic enough to keep up. If there was anything that meant something to you, un-ironically, it's impressing your bro.

He stops in front of one of the storage container and pulls a key out of his pocket, using it to unlock the gate. It swings open to reveal a Tetris like arrangement of your bro's old stuff - storage trunks, discarded furniture that somehow never made it to the trash, and sporting equipment are among the clutter. You eye an orange kayak a bit dejectedly, something most likely from Dirk's younger days. Goddamn, you hated yourself for being such a ball and chain. Your bro had such a rad life - the last thing he needed was a baby. He never even brought a girl home (well, none that you knew of at least). Dude was a saint, and you had nothing to complain about.

"How come we never do anything fun together?" you mutter offhandedly, and he seems a bit taken by surprise, in only a slight ninja expression that would be indecipherable to most people. But you're pretty sure you know him the best. You like to think so.

"Another time, li'l bro," he comments as you dump the swords down. On the way out of the storage unit, Dirk takes a wrong turn that he assures you is a short cut. He leads you past the old wooden staircase.

The thing is what you remember as your worst childhood memory. There was a time when you would come down here with some other kids in the complex to play, when you were a lot younger, and some little bastard told you a monster lived under the stairs. Then a spry, overly-ambitious eighty-year-old man jumped out and scared you. You cried for an hour. You were four. You could never quite look at the stairs the same way again. Legend had it that before Dirk lived there, a fire in the complex burned through them. They were long obsolete since the layout of the basement had changed, been completely remodeled. Just a remnant of the old complex were these shitty, rotting wooden stairs. And even though half of them had been chopped off, now leading to nowhere, they were still standing here for some reason, being an eyesore in an industrial basement of cages where people kept their spare shit.

"You don't still believe in monsters, do you?" asked Dirk, a barely noticeable twitch at the corner of his lips.

"Shit, man," you respond, unable to resist a glance into the dank corner under the staircase. "No."

You are surrounded by silence on the way back up to your apartment. Dirk unlocks the door and lets you both in. It's dark, and you yawn loudly in an ironically exaggerated manner before retiring to your room. Dirk was doing the same, and you both took down your shades at the same moment, locking eyes. There was a hesitant silence, before you speak.

"G'night, bro."

He nods at you, the hint of a smile playing on his lips before he shuts the door.

_== Be Dirk, nine years ago. _

You sigh, lying back on your bed. You have finally managed to silence the cries of your kid brother, who has had the shit scared out of him by your apartment complex's senile custodian. He is now asleep in his bed, thanks to Li'l Cal, who so graciously offered to take the next shift. What would you do without him? Probably succumb to dementia, brought on by extreme sleep deprivation. He's a godsend. Who would've ever guessed that having a little brat around would be so hard?

So hard, yet so rewarding. That kid was the light of your life. You are just about to fall asleep when you hear your door creaking open, accompanied by a tiny voice. "Dirk?"

You rouse yourself and sit up, smirking gently as Dave scuttles over to the edge of your bed and leaps onto it onerously. "Can I sleep in here?" His voice is timid, but at least he's not crying.

"Sure, li'l bro," you respond as he slides under the blankets and curls up against you. You smile as he falls asleep in an instant, stretching your arm out comfortably to the side. You close your eyes and promise, "I'll always protect you from the monsters."


End file.
